Graveyard
by Haptronym
Summary: He wondered if there was some step he had forgotten on the long journey. Some switch that, if he had remembered to flip it, would have reminded Fate to lay out his future as neatly as it had laid out his friends'.


_A small snippet of what was meant to be a larger story. It was meant to tell the tale of how Vivi came to create his 'sons', but I never finished it. Figured I'd upload this depressing section instead, in honor of the FFIX remake._

* * *

All he'd been doing was reading in the small meadow outside Black Mage Village. He'd started back after the light had grown too dim to read by… when all of a sudden, he was viciously attacked by a faceful of mail.

"Kupoo! That's it, we're building a mailbox first thing tomorrow!" a squeaky voice cried, and suddenly Vivi had an armful of letters showering down on him like oversized confetti.

"I—what?" Vivi sputtered. He quickly lunged to grab the fluttering notes. Only half the letters actually made it into his arms, which he thought was admirable considering that he hadn't even seen them coming a second before. He tried to grab at several falling letters to keep them from dropping on the ground, but that only resulted in the rest of them slipping from his grasp and falling to the dirt. He looked up to see the resident Moogle, Mogryo, floating in front of him with his stubby hands on his hips.

"Those are yours, kupo." Mogryo said bluntly. "Go deliver them. I can never remember anyone's names anyway. Why does everyone here have to name themselves after _numbers_!?"

Vivi scrambled to pick up the letters. He dusted the dirt off of one of them. "Um… I guess I can deliver them… why'd they arrive so late?"

"I don't know," Mogryo replied, "but I bet it's because Artemicon is dropping from the sky from all the mail! I thought we said that you and the eight others could use Mognet, kupo, because you fixed Mognet Central for us. Now we're delivering letters for your whole village?"

It was true, that had been the initial agreement. But then, after much pleading, the Moogles had agreed to deliver things for very close friends, too. And after that, it went steadily downhill. Just how the village's handful of supposedly solitary black mages had managed to find so many contacts in the outside world, Vivi didn't know, but the amount of mail traffic was starting to get ridiculous.

Vivi finally picked up the last letter and tucked them under his arm, along with his book. "It's late… everyone's probably asleep by now." he said. "I'll deliver them tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Kupo, as long as I don't have to see them." Mogryo grumbled. Vivi got the impression that the Moogle was just slightly tired of playing delivery boy.

Vivi continued on his way as the Moogle fluttered off. He understood Mogryo's plight. It had taken him forever to match all the different numbers to the mage's faces. The mages seemed perfectly content with the strange 'names,' making no effort to change them and even trying to assign numbers to the new Genomes. They'd almost named their resident Chocobo "Mr. 43" after the number of days it had taken to hatch. Luckily, the real Mr. 43 had objected. Most of the Genomes had normal names now, and the mage's numbers had eventually become as familiar to Vivi as any other name out there.

He shuffled through the letters as he walked. Oh… here was one addressed to Mr. 163. His house was right on the way to the inn. He could pop it under the door as he went past and still be back at the inn before Mr. 234 had reason to start worrying. Vivi hopped onto the raised wooden pathway, walking over the meandering stream that wound through the center of the village.

He rounded the corner to see Mr. 163 on the roof of his shop, busily nailing in thatching. Next to him sat his 'assistant'-a female Genome who had adopted the name Treble. Mr. 163 had taken her in when the Genomes first arrived, and they'd been inseparable ever since. Vivi approached the dwelling and cleared his throat.

"Mr. 163?" he called. The mage turned and looked down at him.

"Vivi!" came the happy reply. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Vivi said. "Artemicon just came by with mail. You got something!"

"Really? It must be from Harold! That's wonderful! Just give me a moment. It's late anyway; I should call it a day." He stood up, gathering his tools, and headed towards the center of the roof where there was a small door. Treble followed him. Vivi pushed open the door to the shop as Mr. 163 climbed down the ladder in the back. Treble swung nimbly from the ceiling supports and bounced to the ground next to him. Mr. 163 set down the tools, brushing stray twigs off his thick gloves and coat before he walked up to greet Vivi.

"Thank you so much!" he said as Vivi handed him the letter. "We've been expecting a reply for a few days now."

Treble appeared at Mr. 163's shoulder. She peered down at the letter, looking very much like a child who is trying hard not to look overly fascinated at their playmate's new toy. Finally she spoke up. "...what does it say?" she asked quietly.

Mr. 163 laughed. "Well, why don't we find out?"

Vivi had to smile at the two as they turned to the letter. He'd been absolutely right about the Genomes. When he had first met them, they were like shells… only responding mechanically to direct questions, never changing their facial expressions. Now, all he had to do was look at the inquisitive Treble to see how much they'd grown. Granted, some were more stiff and hollow than others, but all in all it was amazing. So much for that talk about them not having souls.

The same happy thoughts couldn't quite apply to the other race of Black Mage Village. The black mages were dwindling, faster than ever. The terrible 'stopping' claimed one victim after another, without warning. They had just lost No. 44 last week, and his partner, Mr. 189, was in a deep state of depression, spending most of his time locked up in his now-quiet dwelling. The two had become aware together, and it was the first time in his life that Mr. 189 had been without his closest friend. Vivi wanted to comfort the mage, but he didn't know the right words to speak. The whole situation was horribly frightening. If only Zidane were still here… he could make things better, even if it was only by dispensing one of his painfully cheesy motivational lines.

Vivi's thoughts were interrupted by a soft _kweh_ at the window. He looked up to see a curious, yellow-beaked face peering in. It was Bobby Corwen, their resident Chocobo. He was a gangling adolescent now, with legs that seemed too long for his body. His adult feathers were still growing in, so he always looked comically disheveled.

"Bobby Corwen!" Mr. 163 cried, looking up from the letter.

"Kweh!" Bobby Corwen replied, nibbling on the windowsill. He had a set of reins on his beak, but they hung loose at the moment.

Mr. 163 set the letter down and moved across the room to scratch the Chocobo's head. He frowned. "What are you doing up at this hour? Mr. 33 should have put you to bed by now..."

There was tenseness in Mr. 163's voice, despite the lighthearted tone he tried to cover it with. Vivi knew why it was there. Visitors saw its outlines when they commented on the black mages' obsessive tendency to keep detailed tabs on each other, but they didn't understand the true meaning behind the actions. If a friend didn't show up in the morning, or if someone was late for a meeting, the others would swarm to find them. Sometimes the person had simply gotten delayed or distracted, and there was much laughter and apologizing. But sometimes that wasn't the case. Here, anyone could… stop… at any time. There were no symptoms, no warnings. If Mr. 33 hadn't put Bobby Corwen to bed—and he _always_ put the Chocobo to bed by sundown, without fail—then could that mean…

"Vivi," Mr. 163 said, not looking down. "Could you take Bobby Corwen back to Mr. 33? Make sure he's all right and everything..."

No, Vivi did not want to do it. The very thought of what he could find made him sick to his stomach. He didn't want to see another friend suddenly gone. But… he couldn't show his fear; that wasn't the way things worked around here. Had to pretend everything was just fine until the very moment that reality slapped them in the face. "Sure… thing," he said. "I've… I've gotta be going anyway."

"Thank you for the letter." Mr. 163 said as Vivi headed out the door. Bobby Corwen trotted up to meet Vivi at the door and he shakily gathered the letters in one hand and grabbed the reins with the other before the Chocobo could wander off again. Maybe… maybe he could deliver the rest of the letters, and find someone else to take Bobby Corwen back. Anything but having to be the one to discover another death. Before he could take another step, though, a voice rang out through the night.

"Bobby Corwen! Where are you?" Vivi could recognize Mr. 33's shouts drifting over the rooftops from the direction of the Chocobo stable. "When are you going to learn to stay when I tell you to?"

Vivi let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Behind him, he could hear Mr. 163 sigh with relief. The tension melted like a landslide being lifted off their shoulders. Mr. 33 was okay. Just a false alarm. Bobby Corwen, oblivious to the sudden change in mood, happily squawked in response to his handler's voice.

"Aha! I hear you, Bobby Corwen!" they heard Mr. 33 cry triumphantly.

Vivi felt his eyes prickle and rubbed them furiously. Nothing to cry about… everything was fine, after all. He shoved back the horrible sick feeling in his stomach and put on a smile. "It's all right, we have him!" Vivi shouted back. "I'll bring him over right away!"

"Vivi, is that you? Thank you!"

Mr. 163 yelled something about the weather to No. 33, and other mage shouted back. A wavering light came on in a nearby house; someone lighting a small flame spell in their palm. "Stop yelling! Some people are trying to sleep, dammit!" a loud voice snapped. Mr. 192, being eloquent as always. Nobody had been able to figure out where he had learned swear words from. The mage seemed to consider them his trademark, and got angry when he caught other people using them. Which was probably a good thing, all things considered.

"Sorry!" the two mages chorused.

"Just go to sleep!" came the curt reply, and the light went out.

Just like that, everything was normal again. As if the last two minutes had never happened; as if they'd never felt the nauseated dread of wondering whether their friend was alive or not. Bobby Corwen crooned softly and tugged at the tip of Vivi's hat. Vivi let out a choked laugh and gently swatted him away. "All right, all right, let's go..." he said, and set off through the maze of dwellings towards the stables. This idyllic village was really like a dream. He wished he didn't have to worry about waking up from it so often.

Vivi rounded a corner and saw glowing yellow eyes approaching from the opposite direction. It was Mr. 288. The unofficial leader of the black mages often walked through the village long after the sun had gone down, so it was not unusual to see him here.

"Hello, Mr. 288." Vivi said politely. The larger mage nodded at him.

"Hello, Vivi. You found Bobby Corwen, I see."

Vivi tugged the Chocobo to the side so that Mr. 288 would have room to pass. "Um, yeah," he said. "I was just about to go to bed. Where are you going?"

Mr. 288's eyes dimmed slightly. "I am going to say goodnight to Mr. 189. He needs as much support as he can get right now."

Vivi nodded. He hadn't seen Mr. 189 leave his house in days, not even to get food or water. The other mages had been taking care of him as best they could. "I see... um, please tell him he's in my thoughts too..."

"I will. I'm sure he'll be grateful for your concern." Mr. 288 said. "Goodnight, Vivi. I hope you sleep well."

"Thanks... you too." Vivi said as the black mage passed by. Mr. 288 was never in one place, always hurrying to check up on someone or to do a favor or to see how things were going. The mage strongly reminded him of Zidane: both went to incredible lengths for those they cared for. The main difference was the level of seriousness and cheesy jokes they displayed while going to said lengths.

Vivi crossed the small field leading up to the stables. Mr. 33 stood at the open door, looking out.

"Oh, thank you, Vivi!" he said as the smaller mage walked up to the stables. "I went out back for just a moment to get fresh straw for Bobby Corwen's bed, and when I got back, he had vanished like smoke!" He petted the delinquent Chocobo on the head and removed the reins from his beak before leading him into the stable and locking the door. "He's a sneaky little bird."

"I didn't know a bright yellow bird could _be_ sneaky." Vivi said.

"You'd better believe it!" Mr. 33 laughed. "Thanks again. Tell Mr. 234 hello for me when you go home!"

"I wi—" Vivi's voice trailed off as he turned towards the village. Something odd was going on. Lights were steadily flickering on in all the houses, and he could hear snippets of commotion emerging from deeper inside the village. Beside him, Mr. 33 had frozen, noticing the strange scene as well. Then the other mage took off, hurrying towards the village.

Vivi was frozen to the spot. He had the sickening feeling that he already knew what was going on. After all… this would be about the time that their leader would have arrived at Mr. 189's house. The black dread he had narrowly dodged just minutes before came crashing back. _Not again… not again._ Maybe… maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe they had gotten lucky twice in one night, and Mr. 189 was still alive, still moving and breathing and talking. Maybe it was something totally different. Maybe a Genome had fallen through a roof while trying to do acrobatics, like Rista had done last week. Maybe Mr. 189 had miraculously recovered his once-lively personality and they were throwing an impromptu dance party to celebrate.

Or maybe, their leader had knocked, and knocked, and knocked, and finally walked into his friend's house to find him slumped over, unmoving, cold, gone forever. Just like that. No warning, no sense. The thing they pretended not to dread every minute of every day.

The noise from the village grew louder. He heard a faint wail; the voice sounded like it belonged to Malain, the Genome who helped in Mr. 189's workshop. Vivi knew that he was supposed to go down there. He was supposed to join the rest of the village in mourning their latest loss. But he couldn't… he didn't want to see that sight. Instead, he turned and fled inside the stable, locking the door behind him. The escalating sounds of grief coming from the village were muffled by the walls. The little stable was dim and warm and smelled like sweet hay—a tiny, fragile little sanctuary. In the corner, Bobby Corwen raised his head from under his wing and let out an inquisitive _wark_ at the unexpected visitor.

"Hey… it's… just me…" Vivi murmured. He sat down next to the resting Chocobo and leaned against his fluffy wing. He half expected Bobby Corwen to jump up, but the Chocobo merely shifted and nibbled at the brim of his hat. He rested his face against the soft feathers and took a deep breath. "You can go back to sleep, it's okay…" He absentmindedly stroked the yellow pinions. He felt his tense body slowly relaxing… and as it did, the brittle walls he had put up to hold back his near-hysteria cracked and shattered. "I'm just… kinda scared right now. I'm scared f-for everyone…" he hiccupped and felt a tear roll down his cheek. Bobby Corwen just tucked his head back under his wing and let Vivi bury his face in his downy side.

He couldn't stay here any longer. He'd go insane if he did. They were all just sitting around, waiting for their time to run out… a living graveyard, and there was nothing they could do but smile and turn their faces away from the inevitable for as long as they could. Who would be next? If you waved goodbye to your friend, would you see them alive the next day? In the next five minutes?

How could they live this way? How could _anyone_ live this way?

The din outside slowly, gradually died down. He heard Mr. 33 shuffle across the yard and go into his house. Finally, Vivi sniffed, wiped his eyes, gathered up the now-crumpled letters, gave one last hug to the ever-patient Bobby Corwen, and slowly set off towards the inn, taking the long way around the mourning village.


End file.
